


Soul. Food.

by Elle82



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Carrying, Dreams and Nightmares, Eating Disorders, Feeding, Food Issues, Gen, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Night Terrors, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Content, Sleepwalking, spoon feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle82/pseuds/Elle82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal notices that Will is having issues with his food and eating. He suggests an unorthodox treatment to help good Will overcome his demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: When Will was younger he didn’t always get enough to eat—his father worked hard, but sometimes it just wasn’t hard enough. Often times Will had to rely on school cafeteria food to get him through the day/week/month, but because he was so “weird” he was picked on. Bullies stole his food.
> 
> As a defense against this, with him not wanting to physically stand up for himself, he would eat as much as he could as quickly as he could. Unfortunately, this follows him into his adulthood.
> 
> Hannibal obviously notices this, and even questions Jack about it. Jack had deliberately ignored Will’s eating disorder. He had assumed it was a coping mechanism for the empathy, and didn’t want to rock the boat with his best weapon in the field.
> 
> Cue Hannibal ripping Jack a new one and then taking care of his Will.
> 
> +Hannibal ties Will up and finger feeds him—reprimands Will when he doesn’t chew enough and swallows too quickly, and rewards him when he goes more slowly.
> 
> ++bonus if Hannibal is coddling Will in his lap while he feeds him.
> 
> +++My first born if Will cries.
> 
> ++++My soul if there is cuddling afterward, with a shivering, whimpering mess of a Will and a shushing, patient, comforting Hannibal
> 
> I’ve obviously deviated a bit from the OP - hope they like it wherever they are! May turn this into a multi-chap.
> 
> As always, prompts are welcome - comment below or come find me on tumblr: puppyxtraining

Jack stood at the front of the briefing room at the Laurel County PD, his broad shoulders covered in a thick coat. It added bulk to his already imposing stature, and the field agents and local police that stood in the room all looked tiny and slightly inept in comparison.

Will stood towards the back of the room, watching, earlier declining an invitation to deliver his profile to the room.

“As boring as it may sound, we need to do door to doors. I want every house in a two-mile radius covered before the day is out. Anything suspicious? Call your team leader. Take note of everything. The offender may have taken someone hostage. Any signs of oddness? I want to hear about it. Got it?”

A few heads nodded, but no one moved.

“GET TO IT!”

A few people jumped and the rest skittered out to the parking lot where they would begin their work.

Will had already inspected the crime scene, done that thing he unfortunately did so well. They were looking for a man with a mission, a delusion that he was Jesus Christ, out to kill twelve disciples. So far he had evaded police and two bodies had been found.

“Do you think he’s still in the area?”

Will took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Potentially. I don’t think he wants to run. He really wants to find these twelve guys. Or rather, ten guys.”

At that point, Hannibal entered the room. Jack had called him up from Baltimore to assist with the profile and take Will back to the city with him when they were done.

“Hello Jack, hello Will. Any luck with catching the perpetrator yet?”

Jack shook his head.

“No. They’re doing door to doors now. Will can fill you in with the profile. Antyhing else you can add, let me know.”

A loud rumbling came from Will’s stomach. He coughed to try and cover it up.

“Uh, sorry. No time for breakfast this morning.”

“Well, it is lucky that I came prepared with some lunch. I thought you both might have been hungry.”

Jack held his hand up.

“I’m fine, I ate earlier. I have to make some calls anyway.”

Hannibal looked at Will, who shrugged.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

While Hannibal returned to his car to get the food, Will spoke to the man at the front desk who showed him to the staff kitchen where they could eat and get a cup of coffee.

Will would have been just as happy to go to the diner down the road and get a burger or a sandwich, but he knew how Hannibal felt about food prepared by other people, particularly in small-town greasy spoon’s that Will felt compelled to frequent when they were working a case.

Hannibal returned with a fancy looking insulated bag and placed it on the table of the room.  Will was sipping a cup of coffee he had just poured from the pot on the bench.

“How’s the coffee, Will?”

“How do you think?”

“Well, it’s a good thing I brought us our own supply.”

Hannibal pulled various containers and dishes out of the bag, as well as a full set of cutlery and crockery, a thermos and two cups. Suddenly, Will was ravenous.

“You’ve lost weight, Will.”

Will threw his coffee out and leaned on the bench, his arms crossed.

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“No, you have. I can tell. How much? Four, five pounds?”

Will laughed.

“I don’t know, Dr Lecter. I don’t weigh myself regularly. Are we going to eat or talk about my health?”

Hannibal paused, halfway through placing some of the food onto Will’s plate.

“Why can’t we do both?”

“Fine, let’s just eat though, I’m starving.”

Will sat down and Hannibal passed him his plate.

“Pan-seared chicken breast with roast potatoes and a kale, quinoa and cranberry salad.”

Will grabbed the plate and dug in.

“Thanks. This is delicious.”

Hannibal took the time to spread a napkin in his lap and by the time he started his lunch, Will was nearly finished.

He had shared a few meals with Will. Whenever they ate at Hannibal’s, it was measured and polite, Will mirroring the manners of his guest. But here, in rural Delaware, Will was just hungry and nothing else.

“So. Have you lost weight Will?”

“Can I finish off that salad?”

Will pointed to one of the containers with his fork.

“Please do. I brought enough for us both and Jack. And since he is not eating, you are welcome to his share.”

Will grabbed the container and emptied the remains on to his plate, along with another piece of chicken.

Hannibal poured out two cups of coffee. He knew Will didn’t want to talk about food or eating or anything remotely upsetting. So Hannibal tried something different.

“How are your dogs, Will? Picked up any more strays?”

Will smiled and took a sip of coffee.

“They’re fine. And no. Winston was my last. I think it should stay that way too, I’m running out of room.”

Hannibal smiled, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I never had any pets. Not even when I was a child. They’re a lot of work and I fear I would not be able to dedicate the time to looking after one properly.”

Will shrugged and sat back, suddenly so full.

“That was delicious. Thank you Hannibal.”

“You’re welcome, Will. That you enjoy my food is thanks enough. It’s a pleasure to see you eat so heartily.”

Will blushed slightly, and was about to make a quip about eating like a pig, when Jack popped his head into the room.

“Will, I need you out here. One of the Deputies thinks he has a lead.”

Will stood up.

“I’d offer to help you clean up, but…”

“Go, Will. I’ll take care of this.”

Jack was only gone a few minutes, but returned alone and headed straight for the coffee machine.

“From all reports, the coffee is not ideal Jack. Here, I brought some of my own blend.”

Hannibal poured another cup for Jack who took his coat off and sat down with a sigh.

“Thank you.”

“I would offer you something to eat, however Will’s appetite seems to have grown somewhat.”

“Not to worry, Dr Lecter.”

Hannibal busied himself, tidying up while Jack was preoccupied with something on his phone.

“Have you noticed that Will has lost weight?”

“Hmm?”

“Will. He has been losing weight. Have you not noticed?”

Jack looked up and shook his head.

“No. He seems just the same to me.”

“Does he eat when he works with you?”

Jack paused, not quite understanding the importance of the conversation.

“I don’t know. I’m not his keeper, Dr Lecter.”

“Yes, but are you not supposed to be looking out for Will while he is out in the field?”

Jack laughed and stood up.

“To a point, yes. But Will’s a grown man. He can eat when he gets hungry. He can sleep when he is tired. Hell, he can take a piss when he needs to, I’m not stopping him.”

Hannibal finished packing away the last of the makeshift picnic.

“He was rushing his food, Jack. My theory is that he is hungry yet either doesn’t eat or eats so rapidly that perhaps he is sick afterwards. Will is looking thinner and more tired than usual. I thought you would have been concerned, seeing as what he does is so crucial to your investigations.”

Jack picked up his coat and folded it over his forearm.

“I appreciate your concern for him, Dr Lecter. That is, after all, why I brought you in. But I’m not going to babysit or coddle him. It’s not my style. But if it’s yours, well, by all means go for it. I don’t think Will’ll appreciate it thought.”

“Appreciate what?”

Will had walked back in and sensed the tension in the air as he stepped into the room. Jack sighed.

“That lead any good, Will?”

Will shook his head, not taking his eyes off Hannibal.

“Well then, we might call it a day. I’ll be in touch if anything else comes up. Have a safe drive back to Baltimore, gentlemen.”

With that, Jack stalked out, throwing a look at Hannibal before leaving the room.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing of importance Will.” Hannibal picked up his bag and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

…

Over the next few weeks, Hannibal took every opportunity he could to observe Will eating; anywhere that wasn’t Hannibal’s house, that is.  He watched Will scoff down sandwiches, salads, burgers, perhaps at the academy, never in a restaurant or in public.

Hannibal noticed a pattern. Will would go without breakfast or lunch and then overeat at his next meal, yet he was still losing weight.

Hannibal decided to confront Will about it at their next appointment, Will turning up looking tired and gaunt as ever.

“I took the liberty of preparing a light supper for us Will. I hope you don’t mind that we eat and talk.”

Will shrugged and followed Hannibal through to the kitchen.

“No, that’s fine. I’m famished actually.”

“No lunch today?”

Will shook his head.

“I had back to back lectures. Then I was helping Jack with a cold case. Time just slipped away.”

“That seems to be happening quite often.”

“I’m used to it. Irregular eating. It’s not a big deal.”

Hannibal placed a platter of cheese, bread, prosciutto, figs and olives in front of Will, along with cutlery and plates. It was a casual meal, eaten in the kitchen.

“Used to it before you joined law enforcement, Will?”

Will laughed and popped an olive into his mouth.

“Just used to it.”

Hannibal poured two glasses of Montrachet.

“You mentioned growing up poor. Were you short on food sometimes?”

Will continued eating, pretending not to hear the question before taking a mouthful of wine. He didn’t bother wiping his mouth before he loaded up his plate again and continued to eat.

“Where do you get prosciutto this good in Baltimore?”

Hannibal smiled. Classic deflection.

“I cure and dry my own prosciutto. Learned from one of the best small-goods producers in Italy.”

Will nodded and downed the rest of his wine.

“Of course you did.”

“Food is not the means to an end to me. It is an art form, a true pleasure to be enjoyed from beginning to end. I’d like to show you how to enjoy food, Will. Really take your time with it, enjoy the sensation and the pleasure of things in your mouth, then swallowing, then resting in your stomach.”

Will stopped eating. He suddenly felt very sick and very full.

“Will? Are you alright?”

He went pale.

“I think…I think I’m going to….”

Will jumped up and dashed to the bathroom where he only just made it in time to vomit everything into the toilet. Hannibal went through, knocking on the door.

“Will? Are you alright?”

The toilet flushed followed by running water in the sink as Will washed his hands and face.

The door opened.

“I’m so sorry, Hannibal. I must have…maybe the food was too rich. I should go.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you driving while you are not feeling 100%.”

Will grabbed his coat and headed towards the door.

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine.”

“Please call me when you arrive home, Will. So I can know you made it there safely.”

“Sure. Again, sorry.”

“No need to apologise. Could I ask you to stop by again tomorrow after work? Continue our conversation?”

Will nodded, eager to get out and get home.

“Sure, sure yes. Tomorrow.”

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

…

The next evening, Will rang the bell at just after 7pm.  Hannibal answered the door, wearing his apron.

“Will. Come in. I’m just preparing dinner.”

Will looked tired. Emotional.

“I don’t think I’ll stay long, Hannibal.”

“Rough day?”

“When is it not?”

Hannibal smiled, took Will’s coat.

“Surely you can stay for some food?” A nod. “We will eat in the dining room. Please go through, take a seat. I’ll be in shortly.”

Will went through to the dining room, noticing that only one place was set at the head of the table, with two glasses set in front of the plate and a carafe of water.

Not wanting to be presumptuous, Will avoided sitting down and instead regarded the painting that sat above the mantelpiece.

Hannibal came through, carrying two plates, setting them down side by side.

“Please Will, take a seat.”

Hannibal gestured to the empty seat to the right of the setting, where he sat himself.

“What is this, Hannibal?”

Hannibal shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap, handing the spare napkin to Will, indicating that he was to do the same.

“I’ve noticed that you have some issues with food, Will. I wish to help you.”

Will was confused. He watched Hannibal cut some of the meat up from the left plate and chew on it slowly. He then moved to the second plate, cutting more of the meat onto his fork and holding it out to Will.

Will laughed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed.

“Language, Will.”

Will ran his hand over his face.

“You’re…you’re actually proposing to feed me? I’m not a child, Hannibal.”

Will made a grab for the fork but Hannibal moved it away.

“No, you’re not a child. However, I think you need a re-education on how to eat properly.”

Will moved his chair back, about to get up. But something stopped him. He was hungry, and slightly intrigued.

“Humor me, Will. At least try it.”

Hannibal held the fork up again, closer to Will’s mouth.

Will brought his chair back in and sighed. He took the piece of meat off the fork, refusing to make eye contact with Hannibal. He chewed it quickly, and swallowed.

Hannibal took another bite, and then loaded up another forkful for Will.

“This time, Will, I want you to concentrate on the texture of the meat. Think about the sauce that is on it, the way in which you can imagine it has been cooked.”

Will leant forward and took the food off the fork, this time watching Hannibal watch him eat. He turned the meat over in his mouth, slowly. Chewed it slowly, let it melt on his tongue.

“Good. Does it feel different?”

Will snorted.

“Of course it does. I haven’t been spoon fed since I was a toddler.”

Another forkful for Hannibal, another for Will.

“And just as your mother or father fed you, I am feeding you now. Out of a sense of care, a duty to nourish you.”

The concern from Hannibal ran over Will like a tidal wave. A surge of emotion bubbled up. He cleared his throat and reached for the glass of water, but Hannibal grabbed it before he could.

“Please, allow me, Will.”

Hannibal held the glass to Will’s lips, gently tilting it. Will drank, his eyes never leaving Hannibal’s. When he was done, he wiped his mouth, and they continued to eat.

“Did you go without food at times as a child?”

Will nodded.

“Yes.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I never complained. My dad did the best he could. He worked hard. Sometimes he’d go days without food, just so I could eat. I never forgot that.”

“Nowadays, you go days without food, am I correct? But it has nothing to do with the cost.”

“I forget to eat sometimes. I get busy, wrapped up in things. Then when I do eat, I just…I want to eat it all. I worry it will disappear, so I eat it all.”

“And then sometimes you are sick afterwards.”

Will nodded again, taking another forkful of food, casting his mind back to the night before and vomiting in Hannibal’s bathroom.

“Can I have another drink?”

Hannibal put his cutlery down and held the glass of water to Will’s lips again.

“Are you enjoying the food, Will?”

“I am. It feels like…like I’m eating for the first time.”

Hannibal gave a small smile, loading up the last forkful and holding it up for Will.

“Then I am pleased.”

When they were done, Will was tired and full and he gave a small yawn. Hannibal took the plates back to the kitchen and returned with dessert.

“A lemon syllabub with fresh berries to finish.”

Hannibal only returned with one glass, piled high creamy clouds and dotted with berries. Again, he fed himself and then fed Will a spoonful.

“This is made with fresh cream and lemons from my garden. A favourite from England.”

Will smiled, licked his lips and looked fondly at the glass.

“This reminds you of something Will?”

Will paused. He wanted to share. Sometimes he wanted to tell Hannibal everything. But he was worried if he did, it would all spew forth like a torrent and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“You can tell me Will. You’re safe here. There’s plenty of food, you won’t do without.”

Hannibal held another spoon up to Will’s mouth and he took it slowly. After he swallowed, he spoke.

“If it had been a good week and he had a few bucks to spare, my dad would buy a tub of Cool Whip and a box of Graham Crackers. We’d eat it on the front porch, looking out at the sunset. That was a real treat.”

Will’s eyes were glassy. Hannibal said nothing, letting Will continue.

“He told me that we were the unknown heir’s to the Graham Cracker fortune, that one day a big shiny car would roll up at our house in Louisiana, and take us away to live in a mansion somewhere. And we’d never go hungry again.”

A tear trickled down Will’s cheek. He laughed and went to wipe it away, but Hannibal grabbed his hand before he could.

“Allow me.”

Hannibal grabbed his napkin and gently pressed it to Will’s face. The act of tenderness, reminiscing about his father, broke Will momentarily, and more tears fell.

Will got up from the table, embarrassed but unable to stop the tears.

“I’m…I’m sorry Hannibal.”

He covered his face as his shoulders heaved, aching under the weight of the silent crying.

Hannibal got up, concerned but secretly satisfied with this development.

“Oh Will. Good Will.”

He placed is arms around Will and held him, pleased when Will reciprocated and wrapped his arms around him.

Will continued to cry, so Hannibal sat back down on his chair, pulling Will down with him.

Will sat awkwardly in Hannibal’s lap, burying his face in his arms and in the crook of Hannibal’s neck, the older man sitting there and gently rubbing Will’s back.

They stayed like that for a while, until Will’s breathing returned to normal. He pulled his face away and stood up slowly.

“I’m so sorry Hannibal. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Perhaps it is I who needs to apologise. I seem to have upset you with nostalgia.”

Hannibal stood up and straightened his clothes as Will wiped his face with the napkin.

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t really thought about that in a long time. I guess it’s psychologically healthy, or whatever.”

Hannibal took the glass back through to the kitchen, Will following him this time.

“I’d like to continue with this, if you would allow it Will. I think we can make some great progress, not only with your eating habits, but with your general wellbeing. Allow me to cook for you, and feed you. At least for the next few weeks, until you regain some of that weight.”

It was strange; Will knew that much was true. Yes, it was awkward at first. Slightly embarrassing. But he felt good, satisfied and cared for; three things he had not felt for a long time.

Will nodded.

“Okay.”

…

And so they continued, for the next few weeks and beyond. Hannibal cooked for Will and fed him in the dining room, in the kitchen or on the back terrace when the weather got warm enough.

Will regained the weight he had lost and began to fill out a little more.

“You’ll either need to stop cooking such high calorie meals, or I’m going to have to start working out.” Will commented one day as Hannibal fed him some sort of meat pie with a delicious, melt in the mouth butter pastry.

“You look healthy, Will. And happy.”

Will blushed. And it was that blush that prompted Hannibal to lean forward, over the plate and kiss Will on the lips.

Hannibal sat back down and resumed eating, as if nothing had happened.

Will took another mouthful of pie and smiled at the deliciousness of it all.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’ve been avoiding me, Will.”

 

Hannibal cut right to the chase at their next session. Although how long these sessions would keep going was anybody’s guess. 

 

It was only weeks ago that Hannibal had kissed Will, leaving the profiler stunned, but pleased. It only took two more intimate dinners until Will kissed Hannibal back, drunk on wine, good food and the overwhelming sense of care Hannibal gave him. 

 

Will laughed and looked Hannibal in the eye, to show he wouldn’t be lying about this. 

 

“I’ve been busy.”

 

“I see. More work from Jack?”

 

“Just teaching a few extra classes at the academy. Johnson’s been out for a few weeks with a broken leg. He’s in traction and won’t be returning for a couple months yet.”

 

Hannibal got up from his chair to stoke the fireplace. 

 

“Do you think this is a wise idea Will?”

 

Will sighed and got up to join Hannibal at the fireplace. 

 

“You need to trust me, Hannibal. I can make my own decisions. I’m a big boy.”

 

“I do trust you. My questioning comes from a place of concern. We have worked hard to get you to a point where you are more or less healthy. I’d loathe to see that slide.”

 

“I appreciate you concern, really, I do. But I haven’t been avoiding you. Take my word for it.”

 

Hannibal turned to Will and gave him a small smile. 

 

“I shall. As it happens, I have invited Jack over for dinner on Friday night. I’d very much like it for you to join us.”

 

“Uh…sure. But it will be a normal dinner, right? I can feed myself?”

 

“Of course. Dinner will be at 7:30, however if you wish to come straight from work, you are welcome to come by and assist me with preparations beforehand.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

…

 

The week went by in a blur of crime scenes and classrooms, Will beyond exhausted at the end of each day. 

 

Hannibal knew he was busy, and tried to resist the urge to call Will every day or send text messages to check if he had eaten, and to check on his frame of mind. 

 

Friday rolled around and Hannibal allowed himself to send one text message to Will that morning, before his first patient of the day. 

 

_I trust you are still joining us for dinner? H._

 

A few hours later, a reply. 

 

_I am. I’m starving. See you at about 6. W._

 

…

 

Will rang the doorbell, a bottle of Pinot Noir in his hands. Hannibal answered the door, in his apron as usual. 

 

“Will. Come in. How was your day?”

 

“Busy. Hectic. I’m glad it’s the weekend, unless Jack decides to call me out to a crime scene.”

 

Will handed Hannibal the wine. 

 

“Did you have time to eat today?”

 

Will sighed and took his coat off, hanging it off one of the chairs in the kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves. 

 

“Really? Do I really need to tell you?”

 

Hannibal resumed chopping onions at the bench.

 

“Yes please.”

 

“Can I at least have a beer first?”

 

“Tell me what you ate, Will. It would be irresponsible of me to encourage drinking on an empty stomach.”

 

“Fine. I had a bran muffin for breakfast. Didn’t have time for lunch.”

 

Hannibal gave a small nod and went to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of beer and a small cheeseboard. He placed some fancy crackers on the side. 

 

“Eat please. You must be hungry.”

 

Will dug in, eating a couple of the crackers and a few slices of cheese. 

 

“What can I do to help?”

 

“I am making lobster ravioli to start, followed by baked whole salmon with fennel and greens for mains. The salmon is in the oven already. So perhaps I will get you to slice up the vegetables.”

 

Will nodded and washed his hands. 

 

They worked in silence for the most part, Hannibal giving Will gentle direction and asking him to taste things along the way. He held a spoonful of the cooked lobster filling up to Will’s lips before he made the ravioli. 

 

“Here. Taste it, let me know what you think of the seasoning.”

 

Will took the filling in his mouth and swallowed it quickly, resuming his chopping. 

 

“It’s nice.”

 

Hannibal placed his hand on Will’s and loaded up another spoonful of the filling. Will sighed. 

 

“Have you learned nothing, good Will? Taste it again. This time, slowly. Describe the flavours and the way the filling feels in your mouth.”

 

Will took a deep breath and closed his mouth over the offered spoon, looking straight at Hannibal. 

 

“It’s creamy. The lobster is tender.” 

 

Will rolled the food around in his mouth a little more.

 

“I can taste lemon; it cuts through the creaminess. There’s saltiness too, maybe from the lobster, maybe from some sea salt. Cracked pepper. I can feel the grit, the sudden but subtle heat from it.” Will swallowed. “There’s also something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

 

“Describe it to me.”

 

“It’s woodsy. There’s depth to it though.”

 

Hannibal smiled proudly. 

 

“I grated some fresh truffle over the mixture. I was hoping you might pick up on it.”

 

Hannibal took the vegetables that Will had cut up and placed them in a pot of boiling water to blanch them. Then he began filling the ravioli sheets, sealing each one shut, while Will watched. 

 

“Where did you learn all of this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen ravioli made like that before.”

 

“I did some work in kitchens in Europe while I was a younger man, before I came to America to study. Nothing serious, more of a curiosity than anything else.”

 

The doorbell rang. 

 

“Ah. That will be Jack. Would you be so kind as to let him in?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Jack didn’t know about Will and Hannibal’s relationship, and Will wanted to keep it that way. But the fact that the three of them were going to have dinner wasn’t unusual, seeing as unofficially, Will was Hannibal’s patient. 

 

“Hey Will. Hope I’m not late. Traffic was a bitch.” Jack sniffed the air as he handed Will a bottle of wine. “Smells good.”

 

“Something with lobster and something else with salmon. I think Hannibal’s just finishing up now.” 

 

Before he could walk Jack back through to the kitchen, Hannibal appeared with two glasses of wine. 

 

“Good evening Jack, thank you for coming. You and Will can head into the dining room. Dinner will be ready shortly. 

 

“Alright. Sounds good and smells even better. Shall we Will?”

 

Will cast Hannibal a look that said ‘Please don’t be too long’ as he followed Jack through to the dining room and took a seat at the lavishly arranged table. 

 

“Hannibal has outdone himself again wouldn’t you say?”

 

Will smiled, nodded and took a sip of his wine. 

 

“You’re looking well these days. Better, I mean, for a man who does what he does.” 

 

Jack held his glass up as if to toast the man. 

 

“Yeah, just trying to…you know…relax a bit more outside of work.”

 

“You’ve picked up Johnson’s classes?”

 

Will nodded, took a larger sip of wine. 

 

“Well as long as you think you can handle it, then fine. But you know I’ll be the first one to call you out if I see things slipping.”

 

 _Second one,_ Will thought. 

 

“Yes Jack.”

There was a silence, save the sounds of pans in the kitchen and the muted classical music that was coming from the speakers in the ceiling. 

 

“You seeing anyone at the moment, Will?”

 

Will coughed.

 

“Uh…no, no not really.”

 

“Not really? What kind of an answer is that?”

 

Will laughed and finished off his wine, pouring himself another glass from the open bottle on the table.

 

“You know, Bella is always asking me why you’re still single. She says you’re smart, handsome, good with fixing things. And the dogs, well, that’s always bound to attract the ladies, am I right?”

 

Will shrugged and blushed slightly. He put it down to the alcohol. 

 

“I know Alana Bloom always took a liking to you. But she’s kept her professional distance, of course. But what if you didn’t work together the way you did. Would you?”

 

“Would I…what?”

 

“You know….with Alana?”

 

At that moment, Hannibal came in with three plates, two balanced in one hand, and set them down in front of Jack, Will and at his own place at the head of the table. 

 

“To start, a lobster ravioli with a burnt butter sauce. Enjoy. What were you saying about Miss Bloom?” Hannibal asked, as he refilled Jack’s glass and filled his own. 

 

“Yes, I was just saying how she always had a thing for Will here.”

 

Will looked at Hannibal. He could see desire. Jealousy. 

 

“Well why wouldn’t she? Will is a very attractive mate.”

 

Will looked down at his plate. There were three large pieces of the ravioli in the butter sauce, a rich and indulgent starter. He felt ravenous all of a sudden and hurriedly shoveled the three pieces into his mouth at once, grabbing some of the bread from the basket in the middle of the table to mop up the butter. 

 

Jack didn’t notice, but Hannibal did. 

 

“He is indeed. Bella has plenty of women she works with who I’m sure she could introduce to Will. This is delicious, as always, Hannibal.”

 

“Thank you, Jack. Will, did you enjoy it?”

 

Will finished the glass off, leaving it empty. He looked at Hannibal, then at the glass, then back at Hannibal. Hannibal responded by putting a tiny piece of the ravioli on his fork and slowly putting it in his mouth, chewing it lazily. 

 

Will sighed and grabbed the bottle, pouring himself yet another glass. 

 

“So, what do you say Will?”

 

“What do I say to what?”

 

“Can I ask Bella to keep a look out for you?”

 

“For what?”

 

Jack laughed and finished off his starter.

 

“For what? For a date! Someone nice, intelligent. Brunette? Blonde?”

 

Will decided to play along. 

 

“I like blondes.”

 

Jack clapped his hands together. 

 

“Excellent, excellent. Okay. How about age, would it bother you if she was a little older?”

 

Will took another sip of wine, eyes never leaving Hannibal.

 

“Not at all. I don’t mind them older.”

 

Hannibal stood up and began to clear the plates, Will noticing the tiny movement f his mouth twitching as he retired to the kitchen to prepare the main course. 

 

…

 

When Hannibal returned with the salmon and vegetables, Will was well on the way to being drunk. 

 

“I’ll tell you Jack, there was this one girl in college. Well…actually…she was one of the TA’s.”

 

Jack laughed.

 

“No? A TA? Will, you dirty dog.”

 

Will laughed and looked at Hannibal.

 

“Gentlemen, for mains, a side of  Atlantic salmon with fennel and lightly poached seasonal greens.”

 

“This looks superb. Thank you Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal placed an extra large portion in front of Will. Again, Jack did not notice. 

 

“So, how long did this thing with the TA go one for?”

 

“Oh, you know, a semester or two. It was what it was, you know?”

 

Will was slurring his words slightly. He looked down at his plate, not so hungry all of a sudden. 

 

“Will. Is there something wrong with the fish?”

 

Hannibal rested his knife and fork on his plate, offering the some bread to Jack. 

 

“No, I’m just…pausing. That last course was so rich.”

 

“I’ve never had salmon like this before Hannibal. How do you cook it?”

 

“It is cooked _en papillote,_ meaning it is wrapped in paper with lemon and herbs, and essentially steamed in the oven.”

 

“It is so moist.”

 

Will stifled a giggle at the word. Hannibal narrowed his eyes. Jack’s phone rang. 

 

“I’m terribly sorry, would you excuse me Will, Hannibal?”

 

Hannibal shook his head and smiled as Jack left the room. 

 

“You’re drunk, Will.”

 

Will snorted and picked up his fork, flaking off part of the fish and pushing it around his plate. 

 

“I’m fine, Hannibal.”

 

Will took another piece of bread and tore it up, mashed pieces together. 

 

Hannibal was about to ask Will not to play with his food when Jack came back in. 

 

“I’m terribly sorry Hannibal, but I’m going to have to go. Bella’s accidentally locked herself out of the house and it’s starting to snow. I’m so sorry.”

 

Hannibal stood up. 

 

“Not at all, Jack. But I insist you take some food with you, for you and Bella. Come, I’ll put together some for you to take home.”

 

“Thank you Hannibal. Will? I’ll see you on Monday? And I’ll tell Bella to keep an eye out for you.”

 

Will held his glass up as a toast.

 

“Thank you Jack. Regards to your lovely wife. Have a good weekend.”

 

…

 

Hannibal saw Jack to the door, along with a bag with two portions of the salmon, some leftover roast potatoes and two slices of the passionfruit tart Hannibal had saved for dessert. 

 

Hannibal fetched a glass of water from the kitchen before returning to the dining room. Will was still sitting there. He hadn’t eaten a thing. 

 

“Please drink this and have something to eat, Will. It will make the hangover less severe tomorrow.”

 

Will snorted as Hannibal sat down and resumed his dinner, now lukewarm at best. 

 

“I can reheat your dinner for you, if you wish?”

 

Will shook his head, continued to push the salmon around his plate. 

 

Hannibal thought about employing two different methods at this stage of the evening. He could either coddle Will, push aside his own plate and spoon-feed him his dinner.  But as his mind flashed back to the conversation had just minutes earlier, a jealousy rose inside him as he remembered Will talking about his preferences and responses to Jack’s suggestions. 

 

Hannibal very neatly placed his knife and fork on his plate to indicate he had finished. He then stood up slowly so he towered over Will. 

 

“I will not see perfectly good food wasted in my house.”

 

Will gazed up at him, more than a little tipsy. 

 

“You will not leave this table until you have eaten everything on that plate. Do you understand, Will?”

Will reached for his glass of wine, but Hannibal was quicker, grabbing it before Will could. He took the bottle with his other hand. 

 

“You will sit there, and you will eat this meal that I have prepared. And you will enjoy it.”

 

Will sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Hannibal gave a small smile. 

 

“Very well. Have it your way, Will.”

 

Will was seething. He had had just enough of this game, or whatever it was, that Hannibal seemed to be playing with him. He stared at the plate. The food was now cold and grey looking. 

 

Hannibal entered the room once more to clear the plates. Will had not budged. So Hannibal went back to the kitchen to clean up. 

 

When he was done, he went back to the dining room. Will sat there still, arms still folded across his chest. 

 

“I’m retiring upstairs. You’ve had too much to drink to be driving back to Wolf Trap tonight. Once you’re done, come upstairs.”

 

Silence from Will. The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Cars driving down the street outside. 

 

Hannibal gave a small sigh, and went upstairs. 

 

…

 

Three hours later and Will was still sitting in the seat, rigid. His bladder was aching. He wanted to badly to just get up, take a piss and go home to his dogs. But Hannibal had made it clear what he wanted him to do. 

 

So Will sat. 

 

…

 

Hannibal looked at the clock beside his bed. It was nearly midnight. No sound had come from downstairs, nothing. He was mildly surprised, but when he thought about it, he shouldn’t have been. 

 

Will was stubborn. Resiliently so.   

 

Hannibal turned off the light and soon fell into a deep but restless sleep. 

 

…

 

The room began to spin. Will took another sip of water. The clock on the mantelpiece read 4:06am. Sometime just after midnight, Will had just let go and pissed himself. He felt damp and dirty and disgusting. But still he did not touch the food. 

 

He thought about putting his head down on the table, just for a second, to sleep for just a little bit. But then he remembered the tone of Hannibal’s voice, telling him to stay. 

 

So he did. 

 

He thought about Hannibal, about their newfound relationship. It was scary and new at the same time. Will liked Hannibal, very much. But they were from such different worlds and backgrounds; Will sometimes wondered how it could work and what Hannibal could ever see in him. 

 

Will thought about this over and over again, getting more agitated, getting more angry with himself for being so affected. 

 

Soon light began to bleed through into the room. Will took another sip of water and smiled. 

 

…

 

When Hannibal woke at just past 7am, part of him hoped he would find Will fast asleep in bed next to him. But part of him knew that it wouldn’t be the case. 

 

He went to the bathroom, and then changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and a red sweater. 

 

When he got downstairs, he checked the study and the living room, perhaps thinking that Will may have fallen asleep on the couch, too stubborn to come upstairs. No Will. Which meant there was only once place he could be. 

 

When Hannibal approached the dining room, the stench of urine and old fish hit him before he even laid eyes on Will. 

 

The man was still sitting in the very spot Hannibal had left him. Upright. Dark circles under his eyes. His lips parched. 

 

He had not touched the food on his plate. And he had not moved one inch. Just as Hannibal had instructed. 

 

Hannibal approached him slowly. Very slowly.

 

“Will?”

 

Will’s head turned towards the voice. 

 

“Will? You…you didn’t move, all night?”

 

“You told me not to.”

 

His voice was small and young. Frightened. Tears brimmed in his eyes.

 

Hannibal swallowed. He never liked to admit when he was wrong, but his stomach sank when he realised he had perhaps been too harsh. 

 

“You could have eaten, Will. You could have come upstairs. Why didn’t you?”

 

Will shrugged, a few tears falling from his eyes.

 

“Why? I was obeying you. You know what’s best for me, you have been looking out for me, caring for me.”

 

Hannibal reached out and touched Will on the shoulder. 

 

“I’m sorry Will, but I have failed you.”

 

“What? No…no you haven’t. I don’t know…I don’t know why I drank so much. Why Jack’s questions bothered me. I want to be here.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Will nodded and pulled Hannibal closer to him, until his face was buried in his sweater and he began to cry again. 

 

Hannibal ran his hand through Will’s hair, soothing him and rubbing his back with his other hand. 

 

“Come Will, I’ll run you a bath, and you can go to bed.”

 

Will nodded, Hannibal helping him to stand, his legs aching after sitting for so long. 

 

He all but carried Will to his bathroom, stripping off his clothes for him while he ran a hot bath with lavender oil. 

 

When he took Will’s pants off for him, the area around Will’s groin and buttocks was red, irritated from sitting in urine-soaked clothes for the better part of the night. 

 

“I’m sorry about your chair.”

 

“Never mind that Will. Never mind that at all.”

 

Hannibal helped Will into the bath. He relaxed, lay back and let Hannibal run a washcloth over him, the lavender scent making him even sleepier. 

 

When he was done, Hannibal helped him out, wrapped him in a white towel and patted him dry. Will’s eyes were closed, and he let Hannibal do everything, including rubbing some mild skin cream into the affected areas. Had it been any other time, Will may have become aroused, but he was just too tired, physically and emotionally. 

 

Hannibal led him to the bedroom where he dressed Will in underwear, pyjama bottoms and a loose top, then gently pushed him down on the bed, pulling the covers over him. 

 

“I’m going to clean up downstairs Will. But I’ll be back shortly.”

 

Will made a sound, a cross between a grunt and a whimper. His eyes remained shut. 

 

“Please…don’t go. Please stay.”

 

Will reached out and blindly grabbed at the air until he grabbed a handful of Hannibal’s sweatpants. 

 

So Hannibal crawled back into bed next to Will, who shifted closer and wrapped his arms around Hannibal’s waist, facing him. 

 

 Will gave a deep sigh and finally relaxed. He was clean and warm and lying in Hannibal’s arms. He gave a small smile. 

 

“I love you, Hannibal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this! This one was a difficult one to write, a bit emotionally draining. Taking a short break but I'll be back <3 Thanks as always for the kind words of encouragement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave this fic alone! I had to write a morning-after fic and may look to expand on this. Hope you guys enjoy, and thanks as always for the words of encouragement.

Will slept without dreaming for a good few hours.  He ran his hands over the crisp white sheets and buried his face in the pillow, inhaling the clean scent.

He had spent a few nights at Hannibal’s before, since their relationship began. And sometimes he had horrible dreams – the fear gripping his chest like a vice, waking drenched in sweat and panting heavily.

Hannibal always, without fail, soothed him, even when Will tried to fight him on it.

_“Let me help you Will. It’s okay. Concentrate on the sound of my voice. Your name is Will Graham. You are in Baltimore, Maryland. You are in my bed. You are safe.”_

But late that morning after the night before, he woke rested and warm. Sunlight streamed through the windows, reflecting off the snow, making the light even brighter than usual. Will smoothed his hand over the empty space next to him.

A light tap at the door and Hannibal appeared, carrying a tray.

“Ah. You’re awake. You look refreshed.”

Will stretched. It was so different to sleeping at home, in his little house, dogs everywhere. He missed them.

“I feel refreshed. I miss my dogs though.”

“Well, after you have had something to eat, I will let you go, return to your dogs.”

Will sat up and Hannibal placed the tray next to him.

“You’ll let me go?”

Will gave a slightly cheeky smile and Hannibal nodded.

“Yes. Now. I have prepared a light meal for you. You haven’t eaten since that small amount at the start of dinner last night.”

Will blushed at what had transpired the night before. Before he could speak, Hannibal interjected, picking up a bowl and a spoon off the tray.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed or ashamed, Will. We all test limits from time to time. I certainly hope you’ll tell me if I cross the line.”

“Have you ever even crossed boundaries?”

“Of course. Now, I have prepared something nourishing for you. Porridge with raw honey and blueberries. And a side of fresh fruit.”

Steam rose from the porridge and Will felt very hungry all of a sudden. He didn’t want to assume Hannibal would feed him, but he was so relaxed, he left his hands resting on his upper thighs. Hannibal smiled and sat opposite Will, one knee up on the bed.

“Sounds delicious.”

Hannibal spooned some of the porridge from the bowl. He blew on it a few times and touched the tip of his tongue to it to check the temperature. He blew on it a few more times and then held it to Will’s mouth.

The porridge was creamy, slightly sweetened from the honey with a burst of tartness from the blueberries. Will closed his eyes and swallowed.

“God that’s good.”

Hannibal smiled and prepared another spoonful.

“Porridge is one of the most comforting foods I remember from my childhood. Of course this version is slightly nicer than the gruel we were sometimes served.”

Will ate the next spoonful, again trying not to feel embarrassed about being fed like a small child or invalid.

“It’s um…it’s remarkably better than the grits I had as a kid too.”

“The trick to making this delicious is to cook it with milk, not water. And adding a little bit of cream at the end.”

Will ate in silence for the next few spoonfuls, relishing the flavours and creaminess of the porridge. Hannibal wanted to talk to him about the night before, but was careful not to press. Will would speak in his own good time.

And when he did, his eyes downcast, sounding regretful and ashamed, Hannibal wanted to take him in his arms and reassure him. But he just listened this time.

“I’m sorry about last night. And before you say that I have nothing to apologise for, just let me explain.”

Hannibal nodded, resting the spoon in the bowl.

“Do you ever think it’s just easier to play the part people expect you to play, as opposed to who you really are?”

Hannibal considered this for a moment.

“We all do that to a certain degree, Will. We project an image of ourselves for the benefit of others, or to perhaps make things less complicated.”

“Well that’s what I was doing with Jack last night. Just…playing the part.”

“You don’t wish to tell him about us?”

Will shrugged and picked a piece of lint off the sheets.

“I don’t know. I mean, what is this? What are we doing?”

“We are two adults, enjoying each others company and exploring the new layers of a relationship.”

Hannibal noticed Will’s body microscopically shift when he used the word ‘relationship’, so he continued talking.

“When I speak about our relationship, I don’t mean it in the sense of a traditional relationship. We were colleagues, then friends. Now, there is another layer. What that layer is, I think, is yet to be determined.”

Hannibal filled the spoon again and held it up for Will who ate it quickly, perhaps to avoid speaking.

“I enjoy the time we spend together, Will. This is obvious. At first, it was a professional curiosity to see how the mind of one of the most gifted profilers at the FBI worked. Then it became a personal interest that I took in you.”

Another spoonful. Will cleared his throat and Hannibal took a glass of apple juice from the tray. There was a stainless steel straw resting in the glass, and Hannibal held it up to Will’s lips.  Will drank then cleared his throat again.

“That first time we spent alone, in that hotel room in Minneapolis. You brought me breakfast. I told you I didn’t think you were that interesting. What did you think of me after that?”

Hannibal smiled fondly at the memory. Another spoonful.

“It made me even more fascinated in you. I would be lying if I told you it didn’t trouble me a little. But I knew your defenses were up.”

Will chuckled.

“My defenses are always up. It’s my job.”

“Well you are not at work now, Will.”

Hannibal fed Will the last spoonful of porridge then picked up the plate of fruit. Will noticed that there was no fork on the tray. His eyes darted from the plate to Hannibal’s hand. A small bubble of panic rose up from his stomach.

“I want you to relax please, Will.”

Will took a deep breath and opened his mouth slightly.

Hannibal held up a slice of peach and gently placed it on Will’s bottom lip, before slowly sliding it in. It was sweet and cold, a contrast to the hot porridge.

Next was a small fig, cut in half, the pink insides glistening. This time, Hannibal’s fingers lingered for a split second on Will’s lips. Will never broke eye contact.

They continued like this, in silence, until all the fruit was gone. A few times, Will’s tongue had darted against Hannibal’s fingers, sometimes on purpose, sometimes accidentally. Part of him wanted to grab Hannibal’s hand, lick the juices off. But he didn’t want to sully the experience and so when he was done, he sat back in bed, full.

“I could almost go back to sleep.”

Hannibal stood up and picked the tray off the bed.

“You would be more than welcome to, Will. However I know how much you want to go home to your dogs.”

Will smiled at the mention of them.

“I laundered your clothes this morning. They are hanging behind the door in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower, take your time. I will be downstairs.”

…

When Will got out of the shower and was dressed, he felt more like his old self, in his own clothes. Granted, they smelled different, more like Hannibal. But Will was okay with that.

When he went downstairs, Hannibal was in the kitchen, placing some food in a plastic container.

“What are your plans for today, Will?”

“I think I’ll take the dogs out for a run. I mean, it’s still cold but they’ve been cooped up. I feel guilty.”

“They will understand your absence. And as a way of apologizing for keeping their master from them, I have packed some of the leftover fish for them.”

Will gave a small chuckle.

“Thank you. I’ll tell them it’s from you.”

“Excellent. I have also packed some lunch in there for you, along with some of last night’s dessert.”

“You didn’t have to do that. It’s very kind, but I have food at home.”

“It’s no problem, Will. There is more than enough to go around.”

Will took the bag. He didn’t want to go, but at the same time, he did.

“Thanks again. For everything.”

Hannibal walked him to the door, his hand resting lightly on Will’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome, Will. Remember I said my house was always open to friends however there is much more I wish for us to talk about and experience. But I will take my cues from you.”

The words were said with such tenderness, such care and consideration. Will placed the bag at his feet, placed his hands on Hannibal’s face and kissed him on the lips. It wasn’t a passionate or particularly sexy kiss, but it was a gesture filled with gratitude and sincere affection.

Hannibal placed his arms around Will, lightly stroking his back. When they broke apart, they remained in this embrace for a few moments longer, until Will whispered.

“I really should get home to the dogs.”

Hannibal smiled, stroked Will’s cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Of course, good Will. Perhaps we will see each other again tomorrow, or during the week if it is more convenient.”

“Can I call you later today?”

“Of course.”

Hannibal opened the front door, and Will picked up his bag of leftovers.

“Thank you again, Hannibal.”

“You’re welcome. Drive safe.”

…

When Will arrived home, the dogs were practically chomping at the bit to get out. Out they tumbled when Will opened the door, everyone except Winston, who held back a little, standing next to Will on the front porch.

“Oh Winston. I’m sorry. I wasn’t well enough to come home last night.”

Will sat on the top step and put his arm around the dog, who sniffed at Will’s clothes.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I smell different. But not bad different, right?”

Winston pressed his wet nose to Will’s cheek and licked it, before running off to relieve himself and sniff around with the others.

Will laughed and wiped his cheek with his hand. While he watched the dogs, he took his phone out. He called Hannibal and asked him if he’d like to come to Wolf Trap for lunch the next day.

“It would be my pleasure. Can I bring something?”

“Nope. Absolutely not. It’s the very least I can do. Just bring yourself. Oh, and wear casual clothes too. Maybe we’ll go out on the ice.”

“That sounds slightly dangerous, Will.”

“Not with me. You’ll be safe with me.”

“I don’t doubt that, Will. See you tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it.”

And he meant it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next installment. Not too much emotional turmoil in this chapter, but that will change for the next. Enjoy, lovelies <3

Will spent that evening giving his little house a once over, mostly concentrating on the lounge room, picking out small bits of metal shavings and stray screws from the rug in front of the mantelpiece. 

 

The dogs regarded him strangely. 

 

“Don’t look at me like that. I bring people here all the time.”

 

As soon as the lie left Will’s lips, he rolled his eyes. 

 

“Okay, so I seldom bring people here. Once in a blue moon. Okay, never.”

 

Will went and opened the front door, ushering them out for the evening before they turned in. 

 

Will climbed into bed, the dogs all in their respective spots on the floor in their own soft nests. The glow from the space heater and the events of the day left Will feeling cozy and content. 

  
As he closed his eyes, he hoped not to dream tonight. 

 

His prayers went unanswered. 

 

…

 

_Red. Red. Red._

 

_There was red everywhere._

 

_He came home, to his little house. The windows were bleeding from the inside. His legs shook as he walked up the steps._

_He swung the door open. His dogs. His precious family, brutalized. Their bodies strewn this way and that. Barely recognizable really._

 

_He walked through, his feet slick with blood. He slipped and slid. Had this been a movie, it could have been comical._

 

_In the kitchen, the fridge doors were open. Fruit and vegetables and meat spilled out onto the floor. So much food. It fell like a waterfall out of the fridge, across the floor and up onto the table._

 

_There was someone there. Hannibal. But not in his suit. He was wearing a plaid shirt and old jeans, much like his father had worn._

 

_He sat in front of a plate. There was meat on it. Blood red and raw._

 

_“Come Will. Sit by me.”_

 

_“Wh…what happened to my dogs?”_

 

_“You must be hungry, dear Will. Please. Sit.”_

 

_Will stumbled over, stepping on the food. From blood to food underfoot. He sat in the chair next to Hannibal._

 

_“Pl…please. Tell me what happened.”_

 

_Will went to move his head, to look at the scene behind him. But Hannibal held Will’s chin with his hand._

 

_“Don’t look. You don’t need to see.”_

 

_Will’s chin trembled. Tears began to fall. Hannibal put a slice of meat onto his fork and held it up to Will’s mouth._

 

_“Open up, Will.”_

 

_Will shook his head._

 

_“N-no. Please don’t Hannibal.”_

 

_Hannibal’s face twitched. He was not happy._

 

_“I prepared this meat for you Will. Is that the way you show your thanks?”_

 

_Will wanted to get up, run far away. But his legs wouldn’t work. He looked right in Hannibal’s eyes. They were cold. Clinical. Loveless._

 

_“I won’t ask you again Will. If I have to ask you again, you will be sorry. It’s just one mouthful. Be a good boy and open up.”_

 

_Will looked at the fork and the meat on it. It was dripping, glistening with wetness._

 

_He tried to get his breathing under control._

 

_“Open. Up.”_

 

_Will complied, still crying. Hannibal smiled and placed the meat in his mouth. Will closed his mouth around it. It was salty. Gamey._

 

_“Good boy.”_

 

_Will swallowed. The second the meat made its way down his throat, his stomach churned. Bile made it’s way up Will’s esophagus. He retched._

 

_“Don’t you dare, William.”_

 

_Will retched again. Hannibal stood up and placed himself behind Will. He tilted Will’s head up and placed a hand over his mouth._

 

_“Swallow it, Will.”_

 

_Will shook his head, retching again, the bile burning the back of his throat._

 

_Hannibal ran his free hand over Will’s throat, stroking it like you would a dog to encourage it to swallow a pill._

 

_“This is the thanks you show for me cooking up such a feast? Ungrateful bastard.”_

 

_Will couldn’t hold it in anymore. His body shook with effort. Hannibal let him go with a disgusted flourish and Will fell to the floor, vomiting on all the food._

 

_It began to rot before his eyes, which made him even sicker. He continued to vomit and cry._

 

_Suddenly hands on his shoulders._

 

_“No….no.”_

 

_He cried._

 

_“Get away from me, Hannibal. GET AWAY!”_

 

_…_

 

“Will, you’re having a bad dream. Wake up Will.”

 

Will thrashed around on the bed, soaked in sweat. 

 

The dogs had gathered around the bed, watching on, concerned. 

 

Hannibal sat on the bed next to Will, trying to calm him down but he continued to thrash and yell. 

 

“No! Please no. Get away.”

 

Winston whined and jumped up onto the bed. He watched warily, trying to dodge the moving form of his master. 

 

A pause. Then Winston moved in, sniffing and licking at Will’s face before placing his body right up against Will’s. 

 

Will stopped moving. He was panting heavily. Hannibal placed a gentle hand on Will’s forehead. 

 

“Will. Can you hear me?”

 

An almost indecipherable whine came from Will’s throat. He kept his eyes closed. 

 

“Please…” he whispered. 

 

Hannibal moved his ear closer to Will’s mouth. 

 

“…please tell me they’re okay.”

 

His voice was small and strangled. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter than before. 

 

Hannibal looked around. Dogs big and small looked on. Winston was curled up next to him. 

 

“They’re all here Will. They are okay. Winston is right next to you.”

 

Hannibal gently lifted Will’s hand and placed it on Winston’s fur. 

 

Will let out a sigh and rolled towards the dog, pulling him closer to his body and burying his face in his fur. His body shook with the effort of trying to get his breathing under control. 

 

“It’s alright Will, it was just a bad dream. Everyone’s here.”

 

Hannibal got up and went to the kitchen, getting a glass of water and returning to Will who had not moved. 

 

His breathing was calming however, but he still clutched to Winston as if his life depended on it. Hannibal just sat by Will and waited. 

 

After a few minutes, Will spoke. 

 

“I’m don’t want to open my eyes.”

 

“Don’t be afraid, Will. Nothing here is out of place. It is as you left it.”

 

“What if it’s not?”

 

“Do you trust me Will?”

 

Will thought back to his dream. His dogs had been slaughtered and Hannibal had been so cruel

 

“I’m here with you. As are your dogs. It is 12:13pm. Your name is Will Graham. You are in Wolf Trap, Virginia.”

 

“It’s 12:13. My name is Will Graham. I’m in Wolf Trap, Virginia.”

 

Will said this over and over until he slowly opened his eyes. He lifted his head slightly and turned around, looking at Hannibal. A smile. Hannibal was wearing a red cable knit sweater and jeans. 

 

Will looked around the room. Winston was next to him, the others scattered on the floor around the space heater. Will looked towards the kitchen. Nothing out of place. 

 

Hannibal handed Will the glass of water. Will sat up slowly and took a sip.

 

“What happened Will?”

 

Will gave a small shrug, shook his head. 

 

“Nightmare.”

 

“Would I be correct in assuming you would rather not talk about it at this early stage?”

 

Will nodded and took another sip of water. 

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“We were to have lunch today. Do you remember?”

 

It was foggy, but he remembered he had spent the night before last at Hannibal’s, with the good doctor feeding him porridge and fruit after their disastrous dinner with Jack. 

 

Will nodded. 

 

“Sorry.”

 

“No need to apologise. I tried to call you this morning, but you didn’t answer. I became concerned so I headed over early. When I arrived, I could see you though the window. I hope you don’t mind me using my key to let myself in.”

 

“No…no it’s fine.”

 

Will rubbed his eyes.  Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the blood. The bodies. The food. 

 

“Do you feel well enough to take a shower? I wouldn’t recommend sitting in those damp clothes for much longer.”

 

Will nodded and Hannibal stood. Will swung his legs over the bed and stood up, slowly. 

 

Hannibal watched him. If he had had his way, he would have gathered Will into his arms and carried him to the bathroom, running a bath and looking after him. 

 

But he knew Will needed his independence, needed to do things for himself. So he just watched. 

 

“Where are your clean bed linens Will?”

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I don’t mind. You take a hot shower. I will help out down here.”

 

Will sighed. He still felt shaky but pointed to a closet near his piano. 

 

“In there.”

 

“Very good. I trust you will be alright in the bathroom?”

 

Will managed a tiny smile. 

 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thanks Hannibal.”

 

Hannibal smiled and Will disappeared off upstairs. 

 

…

 

He made the water run as hot as he could stand. He scrubbed his skin, soaped it well until his flesh was red. 

 

After his shower, he shaved leaving his face smooth. He looked in the mirror. He looked so young and he knew it. He ran his hand over his jaw, as Hannibal had in his dream last night. Will shuddered and a wave of nausea rolled over him. He braced his hands on the sink and told himself to calm down. 

 

When the nausea passed, he went to his unused bedroom, grabbed a pair of old jeans and a shirt and then went back downstairs. 

 

…

 

Hannibal had changed the bed sheets and had put the dirty ones in the washing machine that was off the kitchen. He had let the dogs out and they were still outside when Will came back downstairs. 

 

“You look better Will.”

 

“I feel better. More human. Thanks for that.” Will pointed at the bed. 

 

“My pleasure.”

 

“Though I feel bad. I invited you around for lunch, and you find me in the throws of a night terror.”

 

Will gave a self-conscious laughed and ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed. Hannibal thought he looked impossibly young, with his smooth face and messy hair. 

 

“Please, don’t concern yourself with that. I only wonder what has given you such horrid dreams.”

 

Will shrugged. 

 

“Nothing in particular.”

 

He knew it was a lie, the second it came out of his mouth. Hannibal knew too and wanted to press Will on it, but the dogs returned from their business outside and scratched at the door, wanting to come in. 

 

“Are you hungry Will?”

 

Will let the dogs in and thought back to his dream. Food was the last thing he wanted to think about. 

 

“I should have something to eat. But…my appetite, well, it’s non-existent right now. And besides, I feel bad having you here for lunch and kind of flaking out on the lunch part.”

 

“Not to worry, Will. But you must eat something. Do you have anything in your fridge?”

 

Will blushed.

 

“I…I was planning on going to get some groceries this morning. Then maybe go catch some fish. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologise Will. If there is a supermarket near by, we can go and get some basics. I would be happy to make us some lunch.”

 

Will sighed. 

 

“Okay. There’s a grocery store not far from here.”

 

“Very good. Shall we, then?”

 

…

 

They drove in silence, in Hannibal’s Bentley, about 20 minutes to the nearest store. A few times during the drive, Hannibal glanced over at Will. He didn’t want to push, but he was concerned. 

 

Hannibal bought some fresh fish, along with a few other bits and pieces to make an Asian-style soup. Something warm and comforting. 

 

Will followed him around the supermarket, feeling very much like a child trailing after his father. Will insisted on paying for the ingredients, which Hannibal allowed and made Will feel a little better.

 

On the drive back, Hannibal asked him about the dream. 

 

“What was it that had you so upset earlier, Will?”

 

A deep breath. Will stared out the window. 

 

“It was just a dream.”

 

“Was it? What did you dream?”

 

“My dogs. They were dead.”

 

“That must have been frightening.”

 

Will nodded. 

 

“Was there anything else Will?”

 

Will shook his head. 

 

“Not now.”

 

So Hannibal left it at that. 

 

When they arrived back at Will’s little house, they unpacked the groceries but Will seemed reluctant to help with the prep work. 

 

Sensing this, Hannibal took the lead, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. 

 

“Are you working on any flies at the moment Will?”

 

“A couple. It’s too cold for fly fishing right now, but I’ve been trying to get ahead for the spring.”

 

Hannibal smiled. 

 

“Why don’t you bring your fly tying gear here to the bench. We can work together.”

 

Will thought about it, and then went to get his vise and his tool-box and set up at the bench. 

 

They worked in silence for a while, Hannibal chopping up things for the soup and Will working on his latest creation, a beautiful blue and green fly. 

 

“This dream, Will. Have you had it before?”

 

Will shook his head, concentrating on wrapping the twine around the base of the fly. 

 

“No. Never. It…it disturbed me. And I’ve had many a disturbing dream.”

 

“Will you enlighten me?”

 

Will sighed, clipping the twine after making the knot.  He looked up at Hannibal. 

 

“You were in it.”

 

Hannibal stopped chopping the cilantro. 

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He resumed, trying not to show the slight feeling of triumph he felt when Will mentioned he had dreamed of him. 

 

“What was I doing?”

 

Will took the completed fly out of the vise and replaced it with a new, bare hook. 

 

“You were sitting at the table. You were…feeding me. Some kind of meat.”

 

“That doesn’t sound as horrific as it should.”

 

“My dogs had been killed. There was…there was food all over the floors. You made me eat the meat, but I didn’t know what it was.”

 

Hannibal placed all the ingredients except the fish into a pot and put it on the stove. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and stood beside Will. 

 

“I know we have had…an unorthodox relationship Will. But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. You must know that.”

 

Will picked another feather out of his box, ran it through his fingertips. 

 

“Have you been with other men before?”

 

Hannibal began to fillet the fish.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Women?”

 

“Yes. I don’t fall in love with a gender. I fall in love with a person, with their mind and their being. How it is encased is irrelevant to my attraction towards them.”

 

Will nodded.

 

“So my encasement is irrelevant?”

 

Hannibal looked up, Will had a small, cheeky smile playing on his lips. A welcome change from the events of just a few hours ago. Hannibal allowed a smile in return. 

 

“I won’t lie and say I don’t notice beauty, or that I am not attracted to beautiful things. What I meant was that I cannot help who I am attracted to. It is much more than a sum of body parts.”

 

 Hannibal dropped the fish pieces into the soup, giving it another stir before washing his hands. 

 

“How about you Will? Have your relationships been primarily with women or men, or both?”

 

Will worked on tying the latest feather to the fly. He sighed. 

 

“Mostly women. A couple of guys during college. No one important.”

 

“Have you ever been in love Will?”

 

Will looked up at Hannibal just as he was clipping the twine on his latest addition. He wasn’t looking when he closed the handle of the scissors and the pointed ends bit into his thumb, causing him to gasp and look at the digit, blood pooling to the surface.

 

“Dammit.”

 

“Here, let me help.”

 

Will stuck his thumb in his mouth, sucking away the blood. Hannibal grabbed his wrist and held it under the faucet.

 

“Where’s your first aid kit Will?”

 

“Under the sink.”

 

Hannibal retrieved it and opened it up on the counter. Turning the tap off, he inspected the cut. It wasn’t too deep and was not bleeding as much. Hannibal held a piece of clean gauze over the incision.

 

“Hold this over the cut please.”

 

Will complied and Hannibal turned the stove off, moving the soup off the heat. Will stifled a laugh. Hannibal would never let a good meal be ruined by circumstance.

 

Hannibal washed his hands again and removed the gauze, cleaning the cut with an antiseptic wipe. 

 

As he tended to the injury, Will watched him work. The intense concentration on his face apparent, Will could finally see him as the emergency room doctor he had once been, confident and calm under pressure. His hair fell over his forehead, blonde with just a touch of grey. 

 

“It doesn’t look too deep, so shouldn’t need stitches.”

 

Hannibal placed more gauze over the cut and wrapped another bandage around it. He was firm but gentle. 

 

“Well that’s me done for making flies for now. Sorry. Thanks.”

 

Hannibal kept hold of Will’s hand.

 

“You must learn to stop apologizing so much Will. As becoming as it is, it’s entirely unnecessary.”

 

Will ducked his head and blushed. Hannibal placed a finger under his chin and kissed Will softly at first, a light peck, then deeper. Will brought his hands up around behind Hannibal’s neck.

 

Hannibal could still taste the blood on Will’s tongue. The coppery sweetness excited him and he could feel Will growing hard as he pressed himself against him. 

 

In a flurry of arousal, Hannibal grabbed Will’s arms and turned him around so he was bent over the countertop. Will’s erection pressed painfully against the cupboard and he let out a small moan. 

 

“Do you trust me, Will?”

 

Will panted.

 

“Yes. I trust you.”

 

Hannibal pulled Will’s jeans down and pushed his back down towards the counter. Hannibal pulled his own hardness out of his pants, pre-come dribbling down his cock. 

 

He placed the tip of his cock up against Will’s ass, teasing him. Will moaned. 

 

“P…please.”

 

Hannibal thrust hard, entering him. Will shifted forward, grunting. Hannibal ran one hand through Will’s hair, tugging at the curls and pulling Will’s head back. He kissed the side of Will’s throat, right by the jugular, as he kept thrusting inside him. 

 

Will reached down to touch himself, only to have his hand shoved away. Hannibal’s hand snaked down, pushing the front of Will’s underwear down and grabbing his cock.

 

“Let me look after you.”

 

Hannibal continued to thrust as he whispered in Will’s ear. 

 

“Let me take care of you. Let me feed you and in turn, you can feed from me. Let me Will. Let me.”

 

Will moaned and whined, the delicious feeling of being filled with Hannibal’s throbbing cock, while one hand pulled at his hair and the other was stroking him. Will felt like every facet of his being was taken care of, and it was with utter feeling of care that he came into Hannibal’s hand, while Hannibal shuddered and came in Will. 

 

For a moment, Hannibal just stood there, inside Will, leaning on him heavily and panting. Will was sticky with cum, most of it in Hannibal’s hand but some had made it onto the bench. 

 

When Hannibal pulled out, Will sighed, almost sadly. Hannibal tucked himself away, not before placing a kiss on Will’s cheek. 

 

“Was that alright Will?”

 

Will let out a small chuckle. 

 

“It was fine Hannibal.”

 

Will pulled his jeans up, washing his hands and cleaning his cum off the countertop with a cloth, rinsing it in the sink and hanging it up over the tap. 

 

Hannibal put the soup back on the stove on a low heat. 

 

“I’ll gently warm this up for our lunch. I wouldn’t want the fish to overcook.”

 

…

 

When the soup was piping hot, Hannibal ladelled some of it into one large bowl, garnishing it with fresh cilantro. He placed it at the dining table and sat down next to Will. 

 

Will was slightly drowsy from the kitchen sex, sitting back in his chair. 

 

“Sit up, Will. I wouldn’t want this to spill down your front.”

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t tried tucking a napkin into my shirt.”

 

Hannibal’s lip twitched into a half smile. 

 

“Don’t tempt me.”

 

Hannibal held a spoonful of soup up to his lips, tasting the tiniest bit before blowing on it and holding it up to Will’s mouth. He tipped the contents past the waiting lips. 

 

“Oh wow. That’s so good.”

 

Hannibal took a spoonful for himself, satisfied with the seasoning and the spiciness of the soup. 

 

“A classic tom-yum soup, with fish instead of shrimp.”

 

Hannibal put a piece of fish onto the spoon and fed it to Will. 

 

“I hope I haven’t overcooked the fish.”

 

“Tastes fine to me.”

 

The kept eating like this until the bowl was empty. Hannibal got up and placed it in the sink. He pointed at Will’s vise and toolbox that was still sitting on the bench. 

 

“Would you show me how to make one of those?”

 

“A fly? Well…sure. But I feel I should warn you about the hazards of the trade.”

 

Will held his bandaged thumb up. Hannibal smiled again. 

 

“Even better. You can instruct me.”

 

So they set up at the bench, sitting side by side as the dogs milled around at their feet, eventually settling into afternoon sleep while Will instructed Hannibal on how to make a simple fly.

 

“You’re good at this. Though it’s no surprise, from an ex-surgeon.”

 

Hannibal looked at his fly proudly, then at Will. 

 

“Perhaps it’s because I have an excellent teacher.”

 

And with that, he leaned forward, kissing Will tenderly on the lips. 


	5. Chapter 5

It had been days since he had heard from Will. Hannibal wanted to give him some space but there were no phone calls, no text messages. Radio silence. 

 

Hannibal had been at the Academy once, helping Jack with a profile. He thought of seeing if Will was free for lunch, and suggesting they meet up. But at the time he was distracted, and the thought didn’t occur to him until Jack mentioned his name. 

 

“How is our friend Will progressing with his therapy?”

 

Hannibal was putting on his coat, done with the monster of the week. 

 

“Now Jack. You know I can’t discuss that with you. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

 

Jack smiled, gave a small roll of the eyes. 

 

“Yes of course, Dr Lecter. I just noticed, well, Will seemed haunted these last few days. Moreso than usual.”

 

Hannibal’s eye twitched. He felt jealous that he hadn’t even had the opportunity to notice it. 

 

“In what way?”

 

Jack shrugged, walking Hannibal to the door. 

 

“He seemed a little out of it. Said some strange things. Haven’t heard from him in a few days, thought perhaps he was working on something else.”

 

“He wasn’t here teaching this week?”

 

Jack shook his head. 

 

“Not that I know of.”

 

“Huh. Well perhaps he needs his space, needs to regroup. It can’t be easy doing what Will does for a living.”

 

“I’ll say. Thank you as always, Dr Lecter.”

 

“You’re welcome Jack. I’ll let you know if I hear from Will.”

 

“Sure.”

 

As Hannibal headed towards his Bentley, he took out his phone and dialed Will’s number. Nothing. Voicemail. 

 

“Will, it’s Hannibal. Please call me back as soon as you get this.”

 

Hannibal was not one for panicking. But a small bubble of fear rose in him, something foreign and unpleasant. He thought to himself that this is what worry must feel like. 

 

And with that feeling settled in his gut, he drove straight towards Wolf Trap, dialing Will’s number every few miles and getting increasingly anxious when it rang out. 

 

…

 

It was dusk when Hannibal arrived at Will’s little house. There were no lights on, nothing. It was cold. He had hoped, as he turned the corner down Will’s driveway that perhaps he would see a little bit of light peeking out from one of the windows. Perhaps smoke coming from the chimney. Will’s car was parked to the side of the house. He had to be home.

 

When Hannibal stepped out of his car, a handful of Will’s dogs ran out of the front door and down the steps to greet him. 

 

Hannibal petted a few of them, counting four dogs in total, two staying put on the front porch. The door was wide open. 

 

Hannibal crouched down to Buster, scratching him behind the ear. 

 

“Hello Buster. Where is Will?”

 

Buster whined and Hannibal stood up, cautiously walking up the stairs and into the house. 

 

“Will? Will are you here?”

 

Hannibal switched the light on. The house was neat. Cluttered, as usual, a random boat motor on the floor, but otherwise neat. 

 

He went through to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. There were some leftovers in there, nothing remarkable. An empty whisky glass sat in the sink, waiting to be washed. 

 

Hannibal went up the stairs to the rarely used upper level bedrooms. Empty. He checked the closets and the bathroom, feeling stupid as he did. He took his phone out again and dialed. Voicemail. 

 

“Will, it’s Hannibal. I’m at your house, with your dogs. You’re not here. Please call me, tell me where you are. I’m worried. Please call.”

 

Hannibal went back downstairs. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t altogether sure of what to do. Jack didn’t know where he was. Who else could he call? Alana? Beverly? 

 

Hannibal whistled for the dogs. Counting them again, he made sure their water was topped up and placed a bit of food in their bows in the mudroom.  It was then he noticed one missing dog.

 

“Where’s Winston?”

 

…

 

Hannibal held his thumb over Jack’s name in his cell phone. He could make one phone call, have the FBI’s finest at Wolf Trap within the hour, cadets scouring the woods for Will. 

 

But what if Will had just decided to go for a walk. And the panic had been for nothing? Hannibal would look like a pastiche of the frantic lover, foolish and vulnerable. 

 

But what if Will was hurt? Hannibal had to act swiftly, night was settling in. A walk around the perimeter of Will’s property wouldn’t take too long. He grabbed a torch from the hook by the back door and set out, leaving a light on and locking the dogs in. 

 

The temperature was dropping the further he walked into the woods. He remembered Will telling him about looking back at his little house when he went walking at night. He glanced back. It seemed so far away. 

 

“Will! Will are you out here?”

 

A tree branch rustled. A small bird left its perch. 

 

“Will, it’s Hannibal. If you’re out here, please say something.”

 

Hannibal kept walking in a straight line until the house became less visible. The further he got away, the more he thought perhaps he should have called Jack. 

 

“Will! Will!”

 

Suddenly a twig snapped. Hannibal’s head whipped around. A whine and a bark. 

 

“Winston?! Winston it’s me. Where are you?”

 

Another bark. Hannibal followed it, half running towards the sound. The barking got louder as Hannibal approached. When he got close enough, he could make out the faint lines of the brown dog, sitting next to Will who just stood there. 

 

Hannibal slowed down, approached with caution.

 

“Will?”

 

Will was standing there in a t-shirt and boxer shorts. Hannibal shone a light at Will’s chest, and could see his pale limbs in the reflected light. He had nothing on his feet, just mud and what looked like cuts and scrapes. 

 

Hannibal walked to him very slowly. Will was shaking. 

 

“Will, it’s me. It’s Hannibal.”

 

No response. Hannibal shrugged his coat off and gently laid it over Will’s shoulders. He guided Will’s arms through the sleeves and buttoned it up the front. 

 

“Will we need to go back to the house. Right now. Can you walk?”

 

Will continued to shake. Hannibal picked up Will’s hand. It was ice cold as he held it in his own. He pulled Will forward gently. He didn’t move. 

 

“Will, darling. You need to walk.”

 

The shaking increased, until Will began to hyperventilate. Winston whined and nudged at Will’s leg with his nose. 

 

“You need to calm down Will. Please. Listen to my voice. You’re with me and you’re safe.”

 

Hannibal put his hands on the sides of Will’s face. 

 

“Your name is Will Graham. The time is 6:26pm. You are in Wolf Trap, Virginia.”

 

Through chattering teeth, finally Will spoke. 

 

“My…my name is Will Graham. It’s…6:26pm. I’m in Wolf Trap. Virginia.”

 

Hannibal gave a small smile, though Will’s eyes remained unfocused. 

 

“Good. Can you walk?”

 

Will gave a nod, took a few steps, holding Hannibal’s hand. A sharp intake of breath as Will stopped. 

 

“My….my feet.”

 

Hannibal looked down at his feet. How he had made it this far was beyond him. 

 

“I can either give you my shoes, and I’ll walk in my socks. But I fear we’d both be injured then. Or…I’ll carry you.”

 

Will shook his head. 

 

“N…no.”

 

“I don’t think we should debate this Will. It’s cold. It’s dark. I want us to get back quickly. It’s not that far.”

 

Will sighed and Hannibal went to stand behind him. As if it was no effort at all, like picking up a child, Hannibal braced himself and placed one arm under Will’s back, the other under his legs and hoisted him up. 

 

Will put his arms around Hannibal’s neck, hiding his face in his shoulder. His head was still fuzzy but he still could feel the odd embarrassment washing over him at being carried this way. 

 

As Hannibal walked, he placed his mouth near Will’s ear. 

 

“I have you, Will. You’re safe. We’ll be home before you know it.”

 

A light kiss, and then Will fell asleep or unconscious, Hannibal couldn’t tell. 

 

…

 

The dogs barked as Hannibal, Will and Winston approached. Hannibal lay Will down on the bed that was set up in the living room. 

 

Hannibal covered Will in a blanket and then went to start a fire. The dogs jumped up on the bed, piling on top of their master to keep him warm. 

 

Will lay still on the bed, drifting in and out of awareness. Hannibal filled a basin with warm water and soap at the kitchen sink and returned to the bed with it. The dogs jumped off, sensing something. 

 

The room was warming up quickly, so Hannibal pulled the blankets back and removed the coat and Will’s sodden t-shirt. He paused, and then removed Will’s boxer shorts too. 

 

Will groaned.

 

“Shh, shh Will. I just want to clean you up, then I’ll help you get dressed.”

 

Hannibal dipped a washcloth in the water and ran it over Will’s body. Hannibal worked swiftly, the dampness on his skin wicked away by the cool air. He paid particular attention to Will’s feet. They were red and sore looking, peppered with cuts. 

 

He went to the tallboy on the other side of the room and grabbed a white t-shirt, a pair of underpants and a pair of pyjama bottoms. With some effort, he dressed Will then covered him up again with the blanket. He took the basin back to the sink, emptied it and then slipped off his shoes and waistcoat. 

 

He supposed he could have borrowed some of Will’s clothes to sleep in. But he was tired and cold himself.  So he turned the lights out, lifted the covers and crawled into bed, holding Will from behind. 

 

Will sighed and shifted, turning around to face Hannibal. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

Hannibal placed a kiss to Will’s forehead once again. 

 

“You’re welcome Will.”

 

“I…want to explain.”

 

“Shh. No need to explain, Will. There’s tomorrow for that.”

 

“Just tomorrow?”

 

Hannibal paused, his hand creeping up to Will’s forehead, brushing his hair back. 

 

“Always.”


	6. Chapter 6

He remembered the effort. The sheer effort it took to open his eyes. And when he did, blinding light. He raised a hand and held it in front of his eyes.

 

Will slowly sat up in bed. The room was warm, still and empty. He could smell coffee. A fire was dwindling in the fireplace.

 

There were footsteps, then the front door opened. The dogs raced in, jumping up on the bed, sniffing and licking Will’s face.

 

“Hey! Oh I know, I’m glad to see you guys too.”

 

Hannibal came through the door next, carrying grocery bags.

 

“Ah, you’re awake Will. You look better.”

 

“Thanks…I think. How bad did I look last night?”

 

Hannibal put the groceries in the kitchen and came back, removing his coat.

 

“You did not look well.”

 

Will mulled this over as the dogs settled around him and he ran his hands through Winston’s fur.

 

“You went and got groceries?”

 

“I did. I thought I’d risk you waking alone without the dogs, than having nothing to eat or drink for the next few days.”

 

“You took the dogs with you? In your car?”

 

Hannibal smiled.

 

“I took your car. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

Will blushed, the assumption foolish.

 

“Of course, no, no I don’t mind.”

 

“I thought they could do with some air. Now, let me check on your feet.”

 

Hannibal, after clearing the dogs off the bed with Will’s assistance, pulled back the covers.

 

Will’s feet were covered in small cuts and scratches, nothing serious, but painful looking all the same. He winced as Hannibal’s finger ran over a particularly nasty cut.

 

“I’ve never sleepwalked that far before. I can’t believe I didn’t wake up before I did.”

 

“It is concerning Will. But we can address that later. For now, I’d like to tend to your feet.”

 

“Uh, sure. But I can just wash them.”

 

Hannibal looked at him with such tenderness that Will avoided eye contact. He shook his head.

 

“Please. Allow me.”

 

Will sighed and rested his back against the pillows. He ran his hand through his hair as Hannibal returned with a hot cup of coffee.

 

“Here. Drink this. I will look after your feet, then make you some breakfast.”

 

The coffee was rich and dark. It wasn’t Will’s usual blend and he inhaled the smoky scent before taking a sip.

 

Hannibal came back to the bed with a shallow basin, placing it carefully on the end of the bed by Will’s feet. He also brought a washcloth, some antiseptic cream and two crepe bandages from the first aid kit. He sat by Will’s feet, placing a towel over his lap.

 

“How’s the coffee?”

 

Hannibal didn’t look up as he dipped the washcloth in the warm, soapy water. He picked up Will’s left foot, placed it in his lap and ran the washcloth over the sole gently.

 

“It’s…sublime.”

 

Hannibal smiled. Will took another sip as Hannibal continued to wash his foot, one hand working the washcloth over the cuts, the other gently holding Will’s ankle, his thumb gently stroking the skin in a soothing motion.

 

“Is it painful Will?”

 

Will shook his head and craned his neck to look at his feet.

 

“It’s not too bad. It stings a little.”

 

“Relax, Will. I want you to sit back and relax. Allow me to look after you.”

 

Will obeyed as Hannibal dried his foot with the towel in his lap. He then applied a small amount of antiseptic cream, rubbing in it ever so gently.

 

Hannibal then moved, and worked on the other foot.

 

“So do you care to tell me what happened Will?”

 

Will gave a small shrug. Took another sip.

 

“I sleepwalk on occasion.”

 

“Yes. You do. But never so deep and never so far that you’ve reached the boundaries of your property. You must have been half a mile away.”

 

Will shrugged again. Hannibal knew there was something he wasn’t telling him.

 

“Maybe I’m sick. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I mean, something else.”

 

He gave a small, self-conscious laugh. Will knew his gift was not normal. Hannibal finished washing the other foot and rubbed more cream into the cuts.

 

“Whatever this is, Will, whatever we have, I want you to feel comfortable in telling me the truth. I will not judge you. I care for you a great deal. You know this.”

 

Hannibal took one of the bandages and began to wrap it around Will’s foot, adjusting it and checking the tightness every few rotations. Will’s stomach gave an audible rumble, and Hannibal’s eyebrow twitched. He knew.

 

“When was the last time you ate?”

 

Will licked his lips and looked to the ceiling.

 

“If you have to think about it, it’s been too long Will.”

 

Hannibal worked on in silence. Will finished his coffee and placed the mug down on the bed.

 

“Are you angry with me Hannibal?”

 

“Not angry Will. But I don’t like to see you not looking after yourself.”

 

“I look after myself just fine. I’ve done it for years, believe it or not.”

 

Hannibal glanced up, the slight insolence obvious in Will’s voice. He finished bandaging one foot and moved on to the other.

 

“Looking after yourself? You sleepwalked until your feet are cut up and you could have caught hypothermia. You can’t remember the last time you ate. I don’t know if I’d consider that…”

 

Will suddenly sat up and hurled the coffee cup across the room, connecting with the wall next to the fireplace and shattering. The dogs stood up, disturbed. Hannibal was calm. He stopped what he was doing.

 

“…looking after yourself.”

 

Will was angry. He wanted nothing more than to walk straight out of there, away from Hannibal. Take the dogs out maybe. It was ridiculous that he had no choice at this moment, his feet in Hannibal’s lap.

 

“I’m sorry Will. I’m afraid I’ve perhaps been too forceful in my care for you.”

 

Will rubbed his hands over his face. His stomach rumbled again. Hannibal applied cream to the other foot and began bandaging it.

 

“It was the last time we ate together. That soup with the fish. That was the last time I ate.”

 

“That was close to one week ago, Will.”

 

“I know.”

 

Sensing the tension and discomfort, Winston jumped up on the bed and curled up next to Will. He ran his hands through Winston’s fur and the dog yawned.

 

“What happened?”

 

Will took a deep breath.

 

“I…I got busy. And I couldn’t think about food without thinking of you. I wanted to be with you. I…I wanted you to feed me.”

 

Hannibal finished bandaging Will’s foot.

 

“You could have called me Will. We could have made arrangements.”

 

He gave a small shrug, and an embarrassed half smile. Hannibal stood up and took the basin and the towels through to the kitchen. He returned with a brush and dustpan and cleaned the remnants of the mug up off the floor. Seeing Hannibal do that made Will feel even worse.

 

“You’ve encouraged my dependence on you. And I let you.”

 

Hannibal stood up and looked at Will.

 

“You can stop any time you want, Will. So can I. We can end whatever this is, if you wish. Just say the word.”

 

Hannibal went through to the kitchen, dumped the broken bits of mug into the trash. He washed his hands and went back to the living room. Will looked up at him. Shook his head slowly.

 

“No.”

 

“No?”

 

“No. I don’t want this to end. But I can’t be reliant on you feeding me every meal. I’m not a child.”

 

“Why do you see it that way, Will?”

 

“Because I’m a grown man. I should be able to feed myself. I was able to eat semi-normally until we started this whole thing.”

 

“This ‘thing’? I saw you neglecting yourself. I believe I helped.”

 

“You did help. You helped me learn to be reliant on you.”

 

“And you can unlearn it, Will.”

 

A pause. The tap dripped in the kitchen. Will made a mental note to fix it later.

 

“What if…what if I don’t want to unlearn it?”

 

Will looked down at Winston and scratched his head. The corner of Hannibal’s mouth quirked up in an almost microscopic smile.

 

“I will leave the power of that up to you Will. Know that I will respect whatever decision you make. But know also that if you do not eat, I will be forced to feed you. I won’t see you waste away.”

 

Will swallowed. Nodded.

 

“Good. Breakfast?”

 

Will nodded again and Hannibal turned towards the kitchen, retrieving items from the refrigerator.

 

Will pushed himself off the bed and hobbled to the dining table on his bandaged feet, the dogs following him through to the kitchen.

 

As Hannibal placed some bread in Will’s toaster, he remembered something.

 

“I tried calling you yesterday. Your phone rang out and I left you some voicemails. Where is your phone?”

 

Will’s brow furrowed and he went to stand up.

 

“Good question. I usually leave it on my nightstand, but I didn’t see it there earlier.”

 

“Don’t worry about it now Will. Sit down. Eat.”

 

Hannibal placed a plate of bacon, eggs and toast and a glass of orange juice in front of Will. He brought another plate over to the table and sat down in front of it.

 

Hannibal began to eat, but Will remained still.

 

“Something wrong Will?”

 

“No. Just…it’s strange.”

 

Will picked up his fork and looked at it.

 

“Strange?”

 

“It’s been a little while.”

 

Will began to eat. Slowly. He took a bite of his toast. Another bite of bacon. A sip of juice. Then he stopped.

 

Hannibal finished his breakfast and took his plate to the sink. When he returned to the table, Will hadn’t moved. Hannibal sighed and took the seat next to Will.

 

“Oh Will.”

 

Hannibal moved the plate in front of him. He loaded up a forkful of food and held it to Will’s lips. He sighed, then opened his mouth.

 

“It doesn’t have to be like this all the time Will. I am very respectful of your independence. But I cannot be wondering if you’re eating when we are not together. It’s not realistic, or healthy, for us to be together all the time.”

 

Will nodded. Another mouthful.

 

“I know it may sound simplistic but what if we plan your meals, to the best of our ability.”

 

Those words. We. Our.

 

Hannibal held a piece of toast up and Will took a bite.

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Perhaps we sit down on a Sunday morning. Take a look at your week ahead, and write down what you eat for each meal. It may seem rigid at first, and of course there is room for spontaneity and last minute changes, but the planning might be beneficial.”

 

Will thought this over. It seemed terribly simple and slightly condescending.

 

“Many people do it Will. It can help with a range of things, from budgeting to time management and making sure you are getting all the nutrients you need.”

 

Hannibal held the last forkful up and Will ate it, washing it down with the last of the juice.

 

“You would do this for me?”

 

Hannibal took the plate and cup over to the sink and began to wash them.

 

“I will do this _with_ you, Will. There is no question about that.”

 

Will put his head in his hands for a moment, then stood and hobbled over to Hannibal at the sink. He put his arms around his waist and kissed the back of his neck.

 

“Thank you. Thank you.”

 

Hannibal turned the faucet off and dried his hands, turning around to kiss Will.

 

“You don’t need to thank me. Just let me help take care of you.”

 

Will nodded and pressed his nose into Hannibal’s throat.

 

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! Thank you a million times over to everyone who read, commented and sent kudos for this fic - it's meant so much to me to have your encouragement and support. Love you all <3


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